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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28522029">No Matter How Sweet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard'>draculard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>And some other less important stuff happens, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Grysks (Star Wars), Hurt/Comfort, Precognition, References to canon Thrawn trilogy, The Force, The Third Sight, Thrawn &amp; Thalias &amp; Che'ri draw together, Worldbuilding, mission fic (sort of)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:33:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,146</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28522029</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time in her life, Thalias has a family —  and she won't let anyone take that away from her. Not the Ascendancy, not their enemies...</p><p>And certainly not Thrawn.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thalias | Mitth'ali'astov &amp; Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo &amp; Che'ri, Thalias | Mitth'ali'astov/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>No Matter How Sweet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantdeergladiator/gifts">elegantdeergladiator</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Come say hi on tumblr, I'm draculard there too</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>“It faded early for you,” Thrawn said late at night. His voice jolted Thalias out of her doze, pitched low but soft from sleep. Thalias had been lying awake for over an hour, hadn’t realized Thrawn was awake, too; a lock of her hair was twisted lightly around his fingers, the way he always fell asleep touching her somehow, and she felt his hand twitch just enough to make the strands jump — a gentle way of getting her attention when she didn’t answer right away.</p><p>“You mean the Sight?” Thalias asked. She rolled over to face him and he moved his hand away at the same time, careful not to hurt her. She propped herself up on her elbow; he stared up at her, his face unreadable.</p><p>“Yes,” he said.</p><p>He didn’t ask a question; Thalias didn’t offer an answer. She knew him well enough now to know from the tone of his voice that he was thinking something through, and he didn’t need her help with that. He would ask when he wanted to.</p><p>“And it faded completely?” he said finally. He scanned her face. “No lingering precognitive abilities?”</p><p>In the darkness of his quarters, she could barely see his expression, even when she narrowed her eyes and tried to study him. “This isn’t your way of sounding me out for a surprise, is it?” she asked.</p><p>“You don’t like surprises,” he said, but his tone added more to that sentence: <em> Don’t change the subject. </em> It set Thalias’s heart to beating in a way she couldn’t explain. </p><p>“No,” she said. “No lingering abilities. Why?”</p><p>The blankets rustled as he rolled over onto his back, his bare arm brushing hers, skin warm. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes far away and difficult to read. It was always close to impossible to tell what Thrawn was thinking — there could be a million reasons why he asked, but the one that stuck in Thalias’s mind was that he had a favor to ask her — something he couldn’t ask Che’ri or any other sky-walker.</p><p>Her eyes slid to his questis, a dull light blinking on its screen; she thought of the report that came through earlier today — the one that made the skin around Thrawn’s eyes tighten, even though he gave no other outward sign of unease and couldn’t tell her what it said.</p><p>Tomorrow, he would leave on a solo mission. She studied him again and found his eyes closed, his face relaxed, his breathing deep and even. She wasn’t sure how she knew he was still awake, but she did.</p><p>Whatever it was, she wished he would just ask.</p><hr/><p>He was already dressed to go, but it was an hour before his shuttle was set to leave; Thrawn leaned against the counter in Thalias’s quarters with his arms crossed over his chest and a daybag hanging off his shoulder. For the past ten minutes, he’d given her absent responses whenever spoken to, occasionally even managing a smile — but his face remained pensive, and his eyes were still fixed on Che’ri.</p><p>Who was starting to notice. After a quick glance up at Thrawn, Che’ri turned and gave Thalias a deliberate, questioning look. A hoard of art supplies lay on the table before them, heaped together in a messy pile that gave Thalias a headache just looking at it.</p><p>“You won’t join us?” Thalias asked, sneaking a quick glance at the clock.</p><p>Thrawn eyed the graphmarkers and colored paper for a moment; he seemed to deliberately avoid Che’ri’s hopeful face. “The less art I make, the better,” he said.</p><p>“Are you saying you can’t draw?”</p><p>His eyes flashed, though Thalias couldn’t tell if it was anger or amusement, and he finally stirred a little from his position against the counter. “I’m adequate,” he said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “But any form of artwork can be captured and analyzed.”</p><p>Thalias’s heart twisted, part of her absolutely certain that Thrawn must have loved to draw once — she could picture him as a child about Che’ri’s age, clutching the little wax sticks that had been popular when they were children and etching out a drawing of a clawcraft. The knowledge that he couldn’t draw <em> now</em>, even if it was only out of an abundance of caution, made her throat feel uncomfortably tight. But before she could say anything, Che’ri glanced up from her notepad and said,</p><p>“It’s just us, right? We aren’t gonna analyze you. And we can just eat the drawings when you’re done.”</p><p>“...Eat them?” Thalias asked. Thrawn’s eyes were flashing again.</p><p>“An excellent idea,” he said, inclining his head toward Che’ri. Thalias watched in disbelief as he pulled up one of the child-sized chairs and folded himself onto it, somehow managing to exude grace and regality as he did so. He dumped his daybag on the deck near his feet. “Innovative thinking,” he said.</p><p>Che’ri handed him a green graphmarker.</p><p>“<em>Eat </em> them?” said Thalias again. </p><p>“It’s just paper,” said Che’ri almost defiantly; she gave Thalias a fierce glare that seemed to say, <em> Not now — I’ve almost convinced him</em>. “People eat paper all the time.”</p><p>“They do?”</p><p>“When there’s secret messages on them,” said Che’ri. She gestured toward her questis, where Thalias guessed she would find a good stock of spy movies if she went digging through Che’ri’s files. </p><p>“Isn’t the ink in graphmarkers toxic?” Thalias asked, reluctantly pulling up a chair. The angle was awkward, making it difficult to fold her legs beneath the table.</p><p>“I would never buy toxic graphmarkers for a sky-walker,” Thrawn said. When Che’ri glanced up at him, he gave her a conspiratorial nod. “For <em> other </em>children…”</p><p>For a moment, Thalias was treated to matching grins, the corner of Che’ri’s mouth pulling up at a crooked angle just like Thrawn’s. Then Che’ri turned her attention back to her drawing and Thrawn’s smile faded fast.</p><p>He glanced over, caught Thalias looking at him. He looked away again.</p><p>For an hour, time seemed to stand still. Thrawn’s movements were brisk but restricted by the bulky material of his uniform as he dragged his graphmarker across the paper in one continuous line; at his side, tucked close enough to Thrawn that their elbows bumped, Che’ri drew her own picture. While Thrawn drew Che’ri, her head bent over the paper, Thalias drew Thrawn; and while Thalias drew Thrawn, Che’ri drew all three of them on the bridge of the Springhawk, their backs straight, their heads held high. She didn’t put a smile on <em> everyone’s </em>faces — just Thalias’s and her own — but it was a good picture, one Thalias would have given the world to keep.</p><p>But when the hour was up, they passed their drawings around the table and, after the requisite compliments and critiques had been doled out (indulgent tones from Thalias, solemn tones from Thrawn), Che’ri grabbed her own drawing and crumpled it into a ball. Thrawn followed suit, a twinkle in his eye, and with a sigh of exasperation, Thalias did the same.</p><p>She didn’t <em> chew and swallow it, </em> though. She wasn’t a complete barbarian.</p><p>Unlike some.</p><hr/><p>“He’s worried,” Che’ri murmured as they watched Thrawn walk away. Thalias grimaced; she’d hoped Thrawn’s demeanor had gone over Che’ri’s head. She was still trying to think of the right thing to say when Che’ri looked up at her and added, “He’s worried about <em> us</em>. Shouldn’t he be worried about himself? He’s the one who’s leaving.”</p><p>“He’ll be back,” said Thalias, feigning confidence. It wasn’t that she doubted Thrawn’s competence; it was that he <em> definitely </em>knew something she didn’t, and Che’ri was right — whatever it was, it had him worried. She’d caught him whispering on a multi-point comm with Ar’alani and Ba’kif this morning, only for him to cut the comm the moment she walked in.</p><p>For a long moment, unobserved by Che’ri, Thalias gnawed her lip and considered her situation. She’d been appointed during the Trials to protect Thrawn — a fact she had yet to share with him, but from the veiled references he’d made comparing her to his late brother, she suspected he knew. Despite this, it seemed like more and more often, he’d been the one protecting her and Che’ri. In the past week, he’d taken it upon himself to teach her all the workings of the Springhawk and its weapons, how the flight suits and honeycomb pods worked, and had even given her a brushing-up on orbital mechanics, astrophysics, and (most humiliating of all) calculus.</p><p>That was how Thrawn protected people — by teaching them, by giving them the skills they needed to rescue themselves. Perhaps — though he’d never discussed it with her — this didn’t come naturally to him. Perhaps it was just a byproduct of the fact that, as the youngest sibling in the Kivu family, Thrawn was now the only one left; his childhood protectors had left him, one by one, on his own. </p><p>It was something difficult to comprehend for Thalias and Che’ri; as sky-walkers, neither one of them could remember their families fully. The entire Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet served as their protectors, and had done so for as long as either of them could remember. Even if Thrawn himself were to die in action, there would be hundreds upon thousands of skilled warriors to take his place.</p><p>And this was something Thrawn knew even better than they did.</p><p>And that was why, when she saw the worry on his face and the tension in his shoulders, Thalias could feel her gut twist with anxiety, too. </p><hr/><p>“<em>There, the animalistic carols touched the night,</em>” said Thalias, pitching her voice low. “<em>On the dark forgetful tundra, the voices sounded almost sweet, like a bell ringing, a family calling to a forgotten son, a forest full of fir branches whispering against each other in the wind. But no matter how sweet it sounded to the lonely, Pas’ka’war’ava could never forget where her duty truly lay</em>—”</p><p>“Pas’ka’war’ava?” said Che’ri, her nose wrinkling.</p><p>Thalias glanced up from the questis. “It’s an old name. People used to include their village of origin in their names back then.”</p><p>“And a <em> forest </em>of fir trees?” said Che’ri, nose wrinkling even further. “When does this book even take place?”</p><p>“It’s a classic,” said Thalias, to cover the fact that she didn’t know. Surreptitiously, she pulled up an info search. She’d hoped Che’ri might enjoy being read to a little more than she enjoyed actual reading, and this book — a dark romantic adventure full of eerie imagery — had been one of Thalias’s favorites when she was Che’ri’s age. “Have you ever seen a tree?” she asked as she typed the book’s title into the database.</p><p>Che’ri gave her an unimpressed look, which Thalias took as a ‘yes.’</p><p>“Well, it’s a common motif in literature,” Thalias said. “It means new life, emotional growth, rebirth— ”</p><p>“Only rich people have trees,” Che’ri cut in. Her eyes were on her notepad, one of the graphmarkers Thrawn had given her clutched in her left hand — just last week, Thrawn had revealed he was ambidextrous and, worse, that ambidexterity could be learned, and ever since then Che’ri had been determined to teach herself how to draw with both hands.</p><p>“On <em> Csilla</em>, only rich people have trees,” Thalias corrected. She lowered the questis, gradually losing her eagerness for the book, and tried to sneak a peek at what Che’ri was drawing. “On warmer planets, anyone can have a tree if they want to.”</p><p>It was clear Che’ri wasn’t listening. She had her tongue between her teeth and her head bent so close to the paper that her nose was almost touching the ink.</p><p>“What are you drawing?” Thalias asked, curiosity getting the better of her. Her own training as a sky-walker had taught her never to ask questions; her time with Thrawn was slowly but surely erasing that.</p><p>“It’s private,” said Che’ri.</p><p>“Private how?” asked Thalias. She got a sharp look of chastisement from Che’ri. </p><p>“If I told you how, then it wouldn’t be private,” she said; then, right before Thalias’s eyes, Che’ri seemed to center herself. She took a deep breath and forcibly relaxed her fingers around the graphmarker; when she finally spoke, it was with a Thrawn-like patience and calm. “I guess it doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“No, of course it matters,” said Thalias quickly — she suddenly wasn’t sure she wanted to know. “You’re entitled to privacy just like anyone else. I don’t—”</p><p>Che’ri placed her palm flat over the drawing so Thalias couldn’t see it. There was a glint in her eyes that was even more Thrawn-like than the patience. “How about we trade?” she asked.</p><p>Trade? What could Che’ri possibly want — more art supplies? All she had to do was ask. Thalias thought over the other possibilities for a moment, gnawing her lip, but the worst she could come up with was a nine-year-old’s dinnertime dictates, or maybe some bartering over how much time Che’ri needed to devote to her studies.</p><p>“Okay,” said Thalias tentatively. “What do you want?”</p><p>Che’ri’s fingers twitched over the paper. “You’ll do the trade?” she asked.</p><p>“Well, tell me what we’re trading first,” said Thalias, “and we’ll see.”</p><p>For a moment, she thought this (reasonable) request might have ruined the whole game; Che’ri looked put-out and half-ready to pitch an argument. But Thalias could practically see the gears turning in Che’ri’s head as she weighed the consequences and decided on what to say.</p><p>Che’ri met her eyes. Her expression was guarded, serious. Thalias felt her heart rate kick up a notch.</p><p>“You and Thrawn…” said Che’ri slowly. </p><p>Oh no. Thalias knew where this was going; she’d wondered how long it would take Che’ri to figure it out, had even discussed the issue with Thrawn — who’d made her anxiety ten times worse by predicting that Che’ri already knew and was just waiting to pull it out during an argument. What was she supposed to say now? It was clear from their time together that, whether she admitted it or not, Che’ri had quickly latched onto Thalias and Thrawn, perhaps even saw them as surrogate parents to replace the mother and father she could no longer remember. Certainly, it would make her happy to find out that Thalias and Thrawn were together — but then, if anything happened to them, if they ever decided to stop seeing each other, they would find themselves inadvertently damaging Che’ri’s emotions in the fallout as well as their own.</p><p>“You and Thrawn,” Che’ri started again, gathering her courage. Thalias found it rather difficult to gather her own; she still hadn’t decided what to say. “You really like him, don’t you?”</p><p>Thalias felt a bit lightheaded. She took a deep breath, still unsure how to respond, but Che’ri beat her to it.</p><p>“You had that whole file on him when you first came here,” Che’ri said. “And he told me one time that you two met when you were kids. Right?”</p><p>Her eyes searched Thalias for an answer, and after a moment, Thalias managed a wordless nod. She saw the second something changed in Che’ri — her eyes narrowing like she was squinting against sunlight; the corners of her mouth turning down, her face working as she suddenly struggled not to cry.</p><p>“Che’ri— ” Thalias started, her voice a gasp. She reached out for Che’ri, and at the same moment, Che’ri drew back, wiping her eyes and leaving her drawing, for the first time, uncovered. On the paper, Thalias saw herself and Che’ri hand-in-hand on a ship somewhere, the bulkheads and viewports drawn with the natural skill of someone who’d never learned to call any planet her home. It wasn’t the bridge; it wasn’t even the Springhawk. Thrawn was nowhere to be seen.</p><p>“How do I know,” said Che’ri, her voice thick, “that you won’t choose him over me?”</p><p>The drawing felt like an accusation somehow, though what it really was was an expression of trust, of hope. Thalias found her eyes drawn to it even as she stood and rounded the table, pulling Che’ri into a tight hug. She tucked Che’ri’s head beneath her chin, felt the little girl resisting the hug with all her strength; she saw Che’ri’s hand form a fist, remembered how she herself had lashed out at her caregivers when she was emotional as a child, and caught the fist just as Che’ri tried to drive it into Thalias’s side.</p><p>“Che’ri,” said Thalias, her voice soft but firm, “I’m your momish. I’m <em> always </em>going to choose you.”</p><p>She felt the surge of tension in Che’ri’s muscles as she tried to jerk her fist out of Thalias’s grasp, and she felt the sudden bonelessness a moment later when the tension disappeared and Che’ri leaned against her, stifling a sob. For several minutes, Thalias only held her, making no attempt to break through the tears or reason her back to calmness; her eyes were fixed on the drawing again, even as she absently ran her hand through Che’ri’s hair.</p><p>Her and Che’ri. No Thrawn.</p><p>When the tears ended — faster than Thalias expected, but still, it felt like an eternity — she could feel Che’ri wiping her face clean on Thalias’s tunic, an offense that Thalias decided not to address. She loosened her grip, letting Che’ri know without words that she could pull away whenever she wanted to, or she could stay here, in the embrace, as long as she chose.</p><p>“Che’ri,” said Thalias softly when the girl didn’t pull away, “why do you think I have to choose?”</p><p>She found herself staring at the drawing again — the CEDF ship that looked as different from the Springhawk as any two ships could be. Half-forgotten fears and long-buried hurts swirled inside Thalias for a moment — she remembered asking her own caregivers over and over again when she would be transferred, which ship would be her new home, only to be told no transfer was coming. But the lies had been pointless; a sky-walker always knows. </p><p>“You’ll have to,” Che’ri whispered, pulling away. Her eyes went straight to the drawing, just as Thalias’s had, and the misery on her face was too old for her — too muted, too resigned. “They’re not just going to keep me here forever. And when they move me to a new ship, they’ll let you choose. And you’ll choose him.”</p><p>“I’ll choose <em> you</em>,” said Thalias again, more fiercely than the last time. She leaned forward, cupping the back of Che’ri’s head with one hand, wiping her tears away with the other. “But it doesn’t matter, Che’ri. Do you know why?”</p><p>Mutely, Che’ri shook her head. </p><p>“Because Thrawn will always choose you, too,” said Thalias. “He’s the captain of this ship, Che’ri, and he’s never going to choose another sky-walker over you. Do you understand? Until your Sight fades, you’re stuck with us. And when it does fade, you’re stuck with us anyway, because no good caregiver just drops her charge when she turns fourteen.”</p><p>She had only the vaguest ideas what it would look like — if she would sponsor Che’ri into the Mitth or if Thrawn would prefer to do it himself — if she would find herself and Che’ri an apartment planet-side or if Che’ri would be allowed to remain aboard the Springhawk as a trainee. She didn’t even know what path Che’ri’s education would take, but she knew for certain that she would have the support of at least two Mitth family members no matter what she chose.</p><p>Without a word, Che’ri leaned back into Thalias, her hands clutching loosely at her tunic. On the table, the drawing of Che’ri and Thalias lay abandoned and surreal, presenting an image Thalias couldn’t believe in and never wanted to think about.</p><p>“He’ll choose you,” she said again. She closed her eyes, refusing to look at that image a moment longer. When Che’ri hugged her tighter, Thalias took a deep breath and amended her statement: </p><p>“He’ll choose <em> us</em>.”</p><hr/><p>On the eighth day of Thrawn’s mission, Thalias took one of his shirts from his quarters and brought it to bed with her. When she tucked it beneath her pillow, she could twist her fingers in the material and hold it close to her face, could breathe in his scent as though he were there with her. </p><p><em> It faded early for you, </em> he’d said before he left. <em> And it faded completely? </em></p><p>She closed her eyes, remembering how he’d looked that day inside the shipping container when they were both undercover — how, wrapped in a costume and faced with Thalias as she’d never looked before, he’d finally dropped the mask he always wore and talked to her the way real people did. Guarded but honest, opening up to her about the one thing that hadn’t been in his file.</p><p>She’d seen the tension around his eyes before he left. Had seen the same low-level anxiety hanging over him when he talked about his sister, who’d been taken away so young and never heard from again — or when he interacted with Che’ri, as if part of him was always thinking of the day they would have to say goodbye.</p><p>Did she see that same quiet concern when he was with her? She couldn’t remember it; but did that mean it wasn’t there, or that he simply hid it so thoroughly she couldn’t tell?</p><p>It was a useless question to ask herself; there was no way to learn the answer, not until Thrawn came back. But knowing it was useless didn’t stop her from thinking it over and over again, until exhaustion took over and she finally fell asleep.</p><hr/><p>It was a dream; Thalias knew that much right away. She knew by the strange architecture of the ship around her, its walls made up of sharp corners and dull gray steel so different from the flowing pearl-colored bulkheads of a Chiss ship. There were no glowing lights to transmit messages along the ceilings and floors; there was no color, no warmth. No artistry.</p><p>But there was Thrawn, standing with his back straight and his head held high. He was older than the last time Thalias had seen him — fifteen years older, she guessed — and he wore the white uniform of a Chiss admiral, a color, she thought, that suited him well.</p><p>As she came closer, she noticed some differences: the cut of the tunic, the utter absence of the Ascendancy symbol on his arm, the strange plaque on his chest made up of multi-colored squares. A dream, she reminded herself — that was why the uniform was wrong. Because this was just a dream, not reality. </p><p>Thrawn wasn’t an admiral.</p><p>This wasn’t his ship.</p><p>This wasn’t <em> him</em>.</p><p>It was easy to tell herself that; this man before her looked brittle and tired, as though he’d slept but hadn’t truly rested in years. His frame was whittled down to nothing but muscle and hard, uncompromising bone; his face was the same, but his eyes were unfamiliar.</p><p>And she couldn’t tell if they were unfamiliar because of the pain she saw in them or because of something worse. </p><p>“Thrawn?” she whispered.</p><p>His name should have echoed through the open space of the bridge, but instead, it came out sounding stifled, small, like something in the air had sucked the power right out of her voice. Thrawn didn’t seem to hear her; the aura of loneliness that hung about him was so thick that Thalias found herself stepping forward even as something inside her screamed to stay put — found herself reaching out to him, yearning to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin and the solidity of his body, to know he was real— </p><p>But he couldn’t be real. She didn’t want him to be real, didn’t want this version of Thrawn: tired and sad and all alone. Her hand came close to his arm; her fingers brushed against the fabric of his uniform. His head turned, as if he sensed her presence; his eyes— </p><p>—and that was when the vision faded, and Thalias was left lying in bed, blinking and dazed. </p><p>Before her stood a shadow in the darkness, faint and small. Only when Thalias blinked several times did the shadow coalesce into a person.</p><p>“Che’ri?” she whispered, propping herself up on her elbow. Her heart was still beating fast, the adrenaline from her strange dream not yet faded.</p><p>“I had a bad dream,” Che’ri said.</p><hr/><p>By the time Thrawn’s shuttle finished shut-down procedures, Thalias and Che’ri were waiting for him in the hangar, both of them too nervous to smile. Thalias kept her hands on Che’ri’s shoulders, as much to steady herself as to comfort Che’ri, and because of this, she was able to feel the way the little girl relaxed when the shuttle door opened and Thrawn stepped into view— </p><p>—safe and sound.</p><p>Thalias forced herself to release the breath she’d been holding, forced her trembling lips into a smile.</p><p>“Captain,” she said, her voice coming out as a breath. Thrawn glanced between her and Che’ri, his face closed-off but softening.</p><p>“Caregiver,” he said, as cognizant of the warriors in the hangar as she was. Then, his voice growing warmer as he knelt down to look her in the eye, he said, “Che’ri. How have you been?”</p><p>“Good,” said Che’ri.</p><p>“Keeping up with your studies?” asked Thrawn. Thalias studied him, something in his voice making her eyes narrow. She felt Che’ri’s shoulders shift minutely, as if she’d noticed it, too. </p><p>“Yes,” said Che’ri. And then, screwing up her courage, “Are you okay?”</p><p>Thrawn’s expression shifted, but remained unreadable. “I am well,” he said, voice guarded. “I look forward to seeing any new artwork you’ve made in my absence. I trust you haven’t lost interest in it while I’ve been gone.”</p><p>Che’ri glanced up at Thalias, a hint of confusion showing in her face. “No?” she said, turning back to Thrawn.</p><p>“Good,” he said simply, tonelessly. Thalias watched his throat shift as he swallowed. His arm twitched, his hand moving closer to Che’ri by no more than a centimeter before it stopped. It was like he wanted to do something — wanted to say something — but couldn’t allow himself to do it.</p><p>He glanced up, looking Thalias in the eye. She got the impression he was trying to communicate with her without using words, but she couldn’t tell what he wanted to say. </p><p>“And you, Thalias?” he asked, lowering his voice. She saw something change in his eyes; for just a moment, the concern she saw there was staggering — so thick and so helpless that it made him look lost in a way she’d never seen him before, not even in the unsettling dreams she’d had while she was gone.</p><p>“I’m well,” she said, her throat dry. “Thrawn—”</p><p>“We’ll talk later,” he said. He touched her arm lightly — a sign of affection he’d never shown her or anyone else before, not in public — and then turned to Che'ri again. His movements were brusque; the hug he gave Che’ri was brief enough that she couldn’t get her arms up in time to hug him back, and by the time Thalias realized what he was doing, he’d already let the child go.</p><p>He offered neither of them an explanation. “I have a debriefing to attend,” was all he said as he brushed past them, leaving them alone to suss out what had happened, to analyze every micro-expression and subtle tone.</p><p>Still dazed, Thalias glanced up and caught the warriors who’d accompanied Thrawn on his mission exiting the shuttle. One of them paused, his eyes trailing over Che’ri; for a moment, he looked pale, almost ill, and then his companions tugged him away.</p><p>“Come, Che’ri,” said Thalias, her heart pounding. “Let’s go back to your room.”</p><hr/><p>It was nightfall, far past Che’ri’s bedtime, when Thrawn accessed the quarters assigned to her and Thalias. He’d showered since the last time Thalias had seen him, had changed into a fresh uniform and likely eaten as well, to restore his energy, but he looked just as tired as he had in the hangar bay.</p><p>He waved away her offer of a drink. He didn’t respond when she touched his arm, but he didn’t pull away, either. His eyes swept over the drawings Che’ri had left on the table — drawings of aliens she’d dreamed up, drawings of her favorite characters from tap-click games; drawings of Thrawn and Thalias and Che’ri together, the lines and shapes all overworked, the colors she’d selected ringing with grim, determined hope.</p><p>“Have you ever heard of a people called the Grysks?” Thrawn asked.</p><p>Thalias studied him, not bothering to answer. She could see the strain on his face, the peculiar shade of exhaustion clouding his eyes. Beneath it all — beneath the way he clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders — there was the same deep-buried pain she’d caught glimpses of before when he looked at her, when he looked at Che’ri, when he looked at any sky-walker.</p><p>Concern. Anxiety. Responsibility. Desperation.</p><p>Hopelessness.</p><p>“Thrawn,” she said quietly, “you know I’ll never leave you.”</p><p>A muscle jumped in his cheek; his way of acknowledging, she thought, that she’d seen through his attempt at distraction, that she’d guessed what he was really thinking, at least partially. He sifted through Che’ri’s drawings carefully, unearthing the one of Che’ri and Thalias alone, on a ship that wasn’t his.</p><p>“I know,” he said.</p><p>She took his hand. “And <em> you’ll </em>never leave me.”</p><p>His eyes hardened. When she squeezed his fingers, he gave her a gentle squeeze back; the pressure was light but comforting, the warmth of his skin against hers so close, so tangible, that it eased the weight on her chest and left her breathing properly again. She hadn’t even realized, not until now, that her breathing was out of control, that her heart was beating fast and her chest was aching as if <em> she </em>was the one who needed comfort.</p><p>“I know,” Thrawn said.</p><p>Her eyes shifted over his face; she saw no change. “So what’s the problem?” she asked, pulling him closer. He didn’t budge. “Isn’t that all that matters? You and me and Che’ri — all our colleagues, all our friends?” She searched his face; he said nothing. “We’re not going away anytime soon,” she said finally, almost desperately. “So what’s wrong?”</p><p>He stood there for minutes at a time, not looking at her, his eyes never losing their hardness. Finally, using his grip on her hand, he pulled her close to him, wrapped his arms around her, enveloped her in an embrace so tight and fierce that it scared her. Through his uniform, she could feel the racing of his heartbeat, like he was already in the middle of a private battle. He was here now; he was real, he was tangible. He wasn’t the man in her dream, with his alien uniform and his unfamiliar ship, the man who wore Thrawn’s face but didn’t have Thrawn’s eyes.</p><p>He was <em> here</em>.</p><p>But he didn’t say a word.</p>
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